


Six for the Hobbits

by Illegible_Scribble



Series: 31 Days of Frodo/Sam, 2018 [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cock Rings, Established Relationship, Frottage, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Quest, bit of fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illegible_Scribble/pseuds/Illegible_Scribble
Summary: In which Frodo's preoccupation with an old gift reshapes itself, into a new sort of present he shares as a surprise with Sam.





	Six for the Hobbits

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/112710) for Kinktober 2018, #1: Sex Toys.

As a point of fact, Frodo was feeling rather clever, if not devilishly pleased with himself. He'd just greeted the postman at the gate and received with much gratitude a package he'd been waiting on for some weeks (with such anticipation, the past several mornings had been spent in the front garden, awaiting the postman and this sought-after package)  


The exterior wrapping was a plain brown paper and tied with a rather rough but thin rope wrapped round it with a bow. On it in black ink was writ in blocky script, 'Frodo Baggins, esq., Bag End, Underhill, Hobbiton, West Farthing, the Shire', which would be the largest point of suspicion about its otherwise unassuming appearance. Normally, most residents of the Shire sending mail to one another merely wrote the name of the recipient, their town, and perhaps their Farthing, if it were longer distance and remembered by the sender. Specifying so much was a bit unusual for most packages sent through the Shire post.  
This package, of course, was most unusual, as it originated not even from hobbit hands, and Frodo felt a simultaneous feeling of horror and twisted delight at what some of his neighbors might think if they ever saw for themselves what the contents of the package were.  


They of course would not, as Frodo had few intentions of letting the contents outside his bedroom, or in fact out of Bag End, once it was brought inside.  


Once he stepped back into Bag End, Frodo abandoned whatever manner of composure he'd offered to the postman, and with an enormous grin hurried to the dining table, only slowing to set down the box. He considered it for a few moments, and thought about all the trouble he'd gone to finally have it here in his hands, as well as how far it had come to get here. The smial creaked of a sudden, perhaps it or the oak above settling somewhat, but Frodo still jerked his head up and peered round, and called out, “Sam?” just to be sure.  


The smial creaked again, but there was otherwise not a single other noise to be heard. Frodo nodded to himself, reassured that Sam was indeed out in town for the day, and hadn't come back early. After all, Frodo felt, eyeing the parcel again, and at last descending on the bow and paper, the surprise would be ruined if Sam spotted it too early.  


With an amount of paper tearing and crumpling that caused enough ruckus in the quiet to make Frodo flinch intermittently, the box was soon unwrapped, revealed at last to be made of fine and polished wood, with leaves and vines carved along its surfaces and top. A golden latch at its front secured its top, and with giddy, shaking hands, Frodo undid it and lifted the top, unknowingly holding his breath.  


The interior of the box was lined with plush velvet colored midnight blue, and what lay shining in a matching set on top of the velvet caused Frodo to flush a deep red and beam.

It was immensely difficult for Frodo to contain himself once Sam got home (for some years now they'd been living together in Bag End, once Bilbo had left it to Frodo, and Sam had come of age to live with his employer and lover), and they set about making supper. Frodo knew Sam was watching him curiously, having noticed how much he trembled and how lighthearted and even excited he seemed, and he even asked about it, but Frodo had waved a hand and said cheerfully, “I'll tell you later.”  


Once they'd finished eating and cleaned the dishes, Sam asked if now was 'later' and Frodo replied, this time giving Sam a salacious wink, “A bit later, still.”  


By the time they settled into a hot bath, Sam asked if it was at last 'later', and Frodo, making unbreaking eye contact and sucking Sam's middle finger in a way that was not at all suggestive, replied around Sam's finger, “Very soon.”  


Once they were dried and back in Bag End's master bedroom (which they had been sharing for quite some time now), with pride and delight, Frodo announced it was at last 'later'.  


Sam was still puzzled and a bit miffed that in spite of all of Frodo's flirting in the tub and sucking his finger, he hadn't been interested in being any friskier than that. Sam had learned as a lad that the Bagginses could be flighty and didn't always think as other hobbits did (in fact, that was one of the chief things Sam loved about Frodo), but he was a bit miffed by Frodo's teasing and then not taking it further.  


“So, what is it this is all about?” asked Sam, trying to piece together what in the world would require such a long wait. “Right cruel to keep a hobbit so long in the dark, Frodo.”  


Frodo, unlike Sam, was not wearing a bathrobe, and Sam was given a premium look at Frodo's soft, creamy rump as he bent over the chest at the foot of the bed, and withdrew a smallish, wooden box. “This.” said Frodo, closing the chest and smiling in a way Sam couldn't help but describe as simply wicked. As Frodo's looks often made him feel, Sam felt of a sudden as if he wasn't wearing any clothes, and Frodo was reveling in observing his nakedness. He blushed, quite red, and Frodo stepped before him and presented the box. “A gift.” he said, and looked very excited.  


Sam, though he didn't quite understand, raised his hands to the box and gave Frodo a quizzical look. “T'isn't one of our birthdays,” said he – being right, of course, as it was early summer.  


“No,” said Frodo, “but I didn't think I could wait until mine.”  


Sam, still not quite sure what this was all about, but from Frodo's eagerness he was beginning to suspect it was something dirty, undid the golden latch and raised the lid. Within, he was struck by the quality of the midnight velvet, but more so, the two sets of gleaming metal rings that sat atop the velvet, and glinted in the candlelight. Each set had three rings, welded at their edges to form something of a pyramid, and each ring was of a varying size – in fact, one of the sets seemed, proportionally, a bit smaller than the other. Each ring was smooth and round, but were a mix of metals – silver and gold – that created perfect, spiraling bands along the surface of each ring.  


Though he did not yet fully know why, Sam was blushing more deeply than he was before, and looked up at Frodo for a complete explanation. Frodo's eyes were shining, but with a much darker and more sultry light. “They're cock-rings,” he said, arriving right at the point, but sounding so very enticing, “of dwarvish make. I had them commissioned a few months ago, and they've only just arrived today. It was quite a time to get your measurements and keep it a surprise, I must say, and I'm still quite pleased about it.”  


With fingers both timid and reverent, Sam touched the larger of the two sets. “H-how, how is it they work- exactly?” He found himself shaking with excitement under Frodo's rather intense gaze. He still wasn't completely certain how it all was going to work, but he felt he was going to find out very soon, and it was going to feel very good.  


Frodo picked up the larger of the two, holding it up for Sam to see more clearly. “This,” with his thumb, he pointed to the largest of the rings, apparently at the back, “goes around the base of your cock; this,” he indicated the apparent bottom of the pyramid the rings formed, “the top of your balls; and this,” he pointed to the last ring, smaller than the one at the back, “further along your shaft than the first. Usually your balls draw up towards your body as you come,” he continued, setting down the rings, “and the way this is designed, it prevents that, and it's supposed to feel very good. The rings are also is supposed to keep you harder for longer, I've heard.”  


Sam was completely taken by the concept, and couldn't think of anything more to ask or say, as it seemed all very straightforward, and he was quite looking forward to trying them. Though the likely chill of the metal concerned him a bit, if it involved carnal pleasure and Frodo, he had no hesitations.  


Frodo smiled at him again, lowering his eyelids and looking thoroughly kissable. “It's a matching set made to fit, one for you and one for me. We could take turns wearing them, or try them both together. As it's your gift, if you like it, how would you like to use them first?”  


“Oh,” Sam's voice was hoarse with want, “oh, I do like 'em, awful much.” It was difficult to focus on talking when one of Frodo's hands began undoing the belt of his robe. “I'd- like to try 'em together-” he choked as Frodo slid a hand down between his legs and squeezed him.  


Frodo, moving the box to his side for the moment, to stand chest to chest with Sam, and slip his robe off his shoulders, whispered into his ear, “As you wish.” After which, grinning wickedly, Frodo sank to his knees, the larger set of rings in-hand, and just as Sam was swelling to hardness, he slipped the set over his shaft, securing each necessary ring around his shaft or balls accordingly. He sat back a bit, eyes wide and entranced with delight as Sam stiffened completely, and moaned. “Oh-” he was nearly wheezing, looking down at himself with wonder, “that's blessed tight, that is.”  


“Just right, or too much?” and Frodo's hand rose again, just in case.  


“Perfect,” said Sam, far more preoccupied with the ring set as yet unworn.  


Frodo, assured of Sam's comfort, wasted no time in adorning himself with his own rings, and once secured and stiff, he found himself in Sam's arms and being kissed thoroughly.  


The journey to the bed was rather a clumsy stumble as the two grappled with one another for the best possible angle to kiss or to press their shafts against one another, but they made it quickly enough, Frodo landing on his back atop the comforter with Sam soon on all fours above him. They broke their kisses and preemptive thrusts against each other's bellies to scrabble for the oil, and in their haste to prepare themselves ended up coating not only their hands and shafts but their stomachs too. In short order as they rolled across the bed and alternately grasped rumps and fistfuls of hair, they ended up relatively covered in it, hips to head.  


Frodo at last ended up straddling Sam's hips, gripping both their shafts together and rubbing their heads with his thumb, covering them in oil and pre-cum alike, while a hand of Sam's held Frodo's hip in a tight grasp, and his other rubbed and squeezed were Frodo's smaller hands could not.  


Crying one another's names in adoration and need, still squeezing and rubbing their slick and hard shafts, their hips began to buck and they squirmed and writhed, able to move only so far for the grip of their hands, but feeling the desperate urge to thrust deeper and harder. Several times they broke free of their arrangement because of this, especially when Sam cupped Frodo's bottom and began rocking him forward to meet Sam's hips bucking hips. By then, they gave up any sensible position and began rubbing and thrusting blindly, pursuing the touch that felt at any moment the most delicious, and beginning to slur the other's name as they each came closer to coming.  


The tightness the rings provided made Sam especially feel as though he were being squeezed tenfold beyond the glory their hands had been able to manage, and that he was swollen bigger and harder than he'd ever been in his life. As he grew nearer the edge of spilling, he felt more and more he was an over-full dam on the verge of bursting.  


Frodo reveled the most in the constricted sensation, grateful most for the incredibly tightness around the top of his balls that a hand would never be able to hold for so long or so firmly. When, finally, he felt the whole of his body go rigid and his cock harden even more, try as it might his sac did not draw up, and fireworks went off behind his eyes as his hips snapped forward and he spilled in glorious waves onto Sam's belly and chest. Waves of pleasure so strong he felt liable to fall over spread through him from his groin, and he felt his spine alight as if with fire and as though the whole of him were being borne up beyond the sky into sensations indescribable. He had come before, of course, but the scale of his pleasure now was far, far beyond anything he'd ever felt before.  


As the last of his seed sputtered own and he crumpled down, panting, Sam's hips were off the bed and straining, pushing him up as Sam wailed and came himself. But a few moments later, legs shaking and his whole body trembling, he set them both down as slowly and gently as he could, panting and looking at Frodo, bewildered.  


Frodo, dazed, delighted and exhausted, bent down and kissed him – loving and lazy, sucking his tongue and rubbing it with his own – before pulling back and looking down at his handiwork. Sam looked equally tired, but was smiling in a daze – as if waking from a dream of delight he couldn't describe – and his front, up to even his collar bone, glistened with beads of sweat, smears of oil, and streaks of their mingled cum. To Frodo, he looked completely delicious – if not somewhat disheveled – and if it hadn't been for the shaking in his limbs making him fear he would fall over, Frodo would've in delight ravished Sam all over again. Instead, he leaned forward and down, lavishing his tongue over Sam's chest – over his heart, and a stiff nipple – before kissing him again, sharing the salty tang of their mingled seed and love before pulling back again.  


Sam was the first to articulate any sort of intelligent noise as Frodo sat back and they marveled at one another. “You're glory.” was the first thing he could say, and he blinked, before focusing more clearly on Frodo and adding, “Right enough, the Bagginses have the best o' presents.”  


Frodo chuckled, shifting on shaking legs to slip his rings off, before moving to Sam's. “The rings or the sex?”  


With what energy he could muster, Sam spread his legs apart for Frodo to take off the rings. “Both, an' no mistake.” Once Frodo set the rings down on their nightstand, he fell at Sam's side, shaking the bed with a jolt, and out of habit Sam gathered him against his chest, which Frodo licked again and kissed.  


“Mm, I'm glad you liked them. I read about them last year, and have been wanting to try them since. I think they're quite splendid.”  


“Best presents an' right good at understatin',” mumbled Sam into Frodo's hair. “T'was, I thought, marvelous, as you might say. I'd fancy usin' 'em again. An' quite a lot.”  
Sam could feel Frodo smiling against his chest as he squirmed closer, and it briefly crossed Sam's tired mind that their bath earlier was now a bit redundant. “I'm glad you like them so, Sam. I'm looking forward to using them again, too.”  


Sam gave Frodo a final, sleepy squeeze, and murmured, “Thank'ee, love,” before planting a kiss in his hair, and in a few moments growing still as he fell into a doze.  


“You're welcome, my Sam.” said Frodo just as softly. He grew still as well, but was thinking before sleep took him. He shifted a bit to look back over his shoulder at the rings glimmering in the faint moonlight from the windows. They were not wholly gold, nor wholly its shape, but they reminded him still of that old ring of Bilbo's.  


Though it had indeed been a feature in one of the eroticas Frodo had read in the past year, it was that miraculously enticing ring of gold that seemed to niggle ever at the back of his mind that made him commission these. Somehow, that ring seemed to offer the most tantalizing desires, and Frodo had grown quite enamored by the thought of constricting himself and/or Sam with a similar band of metal. Something in him at the time asked for some difference between their rings and Bilbo's, not wanting them to be wholly alike: hence the mixture of silver, though now Frodo wondered if the difference spoiled a total satisfaction for him. He knew it was silly and impossible for that old ring to have a hope of working as he was fantasizing about (and anyway it would turn its wearer invisible, which Frodo thought utterly silly if one was going to have sex), but still he felt a craving for it.  


Frodo's eyes drifted down to the chest at the foot of the bed, where it was still in the envelope he'd received it in, on his 33rd birthday, and the day Bilbo went away. He considered getting it out – just to look at it – but then Sam shifted, and in his sleep drew a hand up Frodo's back, and murmured something that sounded most like, “Love you.”  


Frodo blinked, coming back to himself, of a sudden finding tears in his eyes. He settled back into Sam's arms and nosed his chest, holding him with a gentle fierceness. “I love you, too, my very dearest Sam.”  


The only ring he dreamed of that night, was the one he would put on Sam's finger at their wedding.


End file.
